


Afterparty

by JustAFigment



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Enemies to friends?, Flashbacks, So many flashbacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 10:34:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11400786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAFigment/pseuds/JustAFigment
Summary: Chloe is Adrien's 'date' for the reception following the runway release of the Gabriel brand Summer line.





	Afterparty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Baneismydragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baneismydragon/gifts).



 

_ “In the name of the Moon, I will puni-” _

 

_ The sudden thud that cut off the tiny superhero echoed through the lobby of Le Grand Paris hotel was followed a moment later by a wailing cry that pulled the attention of the young boy waiting patiently while his parents discussed something with the hotel owner he wasn’t entirely invested in. At the bottom of the stairs a girl dressed in blonde pigtails and a white, red, and blue outfit sat crying. It took a moment for him to put the whole scene together before he sprang into action.  _

 

_ He hurried over, hopping up in his run to snag a flower from one of the high flower arrangements that decorated the gigantic lobby area. He knelt in front of the crying girl as she rubbed at her eyes, a nervous hesitation causing him to fiddle with the bloom in his hands. She still hadn’t noticed him. It wasn’t something he was used to, to be frank. Much of his young life had already been spent under a spotlight, almost always the center of attention when he wasn’t at home, being completely ignored was a foreign concept to him. He was almost at a loss. _

 

_ Almost. _

 

_ Clearing his throat in hopes to draw the fallen heroes attention his way, he held the red rose out to the sobbing girl. “Don’t cry, moon princess.” He said nervously. Tearful blue eyes snapped open to meet green. He grinned, wide and toothy, and offered the rose to her. “We can’t let the negaverse win, right?” _

 

 

The blonde Ladybug sat on her knees at the bottom of the steps. It had been years since Chloe 

Bourgeois had thought about her childhood obsession with Sailor Moon. Mustachio and her Chat Noir were fretting about beside her after a quick ‘trip’ down the stairs.

 

She paid them no mind, waving them off. Worry was a nuisance. It wasn’t like she was  _ actually _ hurt or something. Ladybug didn’t need to be fussed over anyway, especially not by a villain and her sidekick. Well, her butler and her friend.

 

“Are you sure you’re ok, Chlo- I mean Ladybug?” Sabrina’s concern evident in her voice after the tumble she’d just taken and how her green eyes dart down briefly to look her over. If it wasn’t so aggravating, Chloe might have thought it was sweet. She did. But still, she wasn’t in the mood.   
  
“Yeah, sure. I’m fine.” Her lips pulled down in a small scowl as she turned instead to her nemesis, snatching the glasses from Pierre’s face and tossing them over her shoulder. “There. Evil defeated, Paris saved. Better go before we change back or whatever.” She pushed past the duo, heading back up the stairs and leaving the pair in the lobby.  _ Neither _ were strangers to the blonde’s mood swings, and both were  _ well  _ versed in knowing when to push and when it was best to simply leave her to her own devices. Now was a prime example of the later. And she  _ knew _ they knew that.

 

One does now associate closely with Chloe Bourgeois for so many years without learning a thing or two about her temper. Then again, one doesn’t normally associate closely with Chloe Bourgeois  _ after _ learning a thing or two about her temper, either.  _ And yet they stick around. _

 

It was a fine thought she had as the elevator doors slid closed, blocking the brightly lit lobby from view. As much as she prided herself on charisma and charm, and postured to the public like some god given gift to the world, Chloe was not stupid. As the daughter of a politician, she couldn’t afford to be. Nor could she afford to be a pushover. But a sharp tongue and a headstrong personality had  _ surprisingly _ done her few favors with age, and all of the grooming and practice to keep three steps ahead in the game of life had effectively spoiled her. And she knew it.

 

But it was too late to do much about that.

 

Especially right now. She needed to get ready, after all.

 

Three hours from now she would be sitting front row at the unveiling of the Gabriel Summer line, and  _ Adrien _ was going to be his headline model for a large part of it. It was a shame he still wasn’t modeling the adult line, but the idea of him walking the catwalk in crisply lined suits and dress wear, finally allowed to fill out his figure and strut away from his boyish charms and make strong confident strides into manhood…

 

Well, that would just be a doubly good debut.

 

Rumor was this would be his last show on the teen line, and Chloe couldn’t be happier for him. One last season of hell was almost over. She watched the lights of the elevator finally come to a stop on her floor as her mood continued its rollercoaster from  _ sour _ to  _ pretty ok _ and back again. Runway days always seemed to be a wild ride.

 

 

_ She was hiding in the hallway, tucked down behind one of the tables that held the fresh bouquet of flowers that decorated the hotel. Adrien was coming over again today and she absolutely couldn’t wait to see him! _

 

_ He’d promised to bring along a new show he found, and the two of them were going to stay up all night watching it. He was four or five episodes in when he mentioned it, and she made him promise not to watch any more until they could watch it together. She’d only been able to grin through the phone when he begrudgingly agreed. Another point to girl power. _

 

_ She could see the elevator from her vantage point. It was almost five o’clock. Any minute the doors would be opening and she’d see him bolt out of the doors towards her room.  _

 

_ And she was ready.  _

 

_ A new costume had arrived for her earlier that day, complete with a matching counterpart for him. She had looped her hair through the back strap of the red and white baseball cap that adorned her head. The blue and white overshirt was tailored perfectly to fit her more-slender-than-a-boy frame far better than any of the existing versions of the costume ever would. The simple jeans and black t-shirt she’d already had. And the custom made pikachu backpack was absolutely adorable and completely one of a kind.  _ __   
__   
_ She hoped he would like the one she’d picked out for him. He didn’t ever seem to mind her choices, but she was a little bit worried. He just didn’t seem like a Brock type… and as funny as it would be to see him in those tiny shorts, she wasn’t mean enough to make him be Misty, either…   _ __   
_   
_ __ She looked down at the matching meowth bag leaning against the wall as the elevator announced it’s arrival with a ping.

 

_ She burst forth from her hiding place, pointing at the very startled boy and grinning. “Ha HA, our eyes met! Now you have to battle me!” She held a deck of cards in her other hand. The current score was Chloe eight, Adrien twelve.  “If you win, I’ll let you pass.” She grinned wider. “And maybe give you a present for defeating me, too.”  _ __   
__   
_ The surprise on his face quickly morphed into a matching grin as he slung the bag over his shoulder to the side of the hallway, flipping it open to dig out a deck of his own and kneeling down in the middle, eyes blazing with determination. _ __   
__   
_ “You’re on, Ketchum.” _ __   
_   
_ __ She was planning on throwing the game anyway.

 

 

Swipe.

 

Swipe.

 

Swipe.

 

Swi-

 

Her phone almost ended up lost in an abyss of bubbles as it fumbled from her fingers. Water sloshed over the edge of the tub and soaking the plush bath mat, turning it into a soaking mess. Not that she was paying attention to that.    
  
Instead her eyes were glued to the image on her screen. Two sets of green eyes stared back at her, along with a much younger version of her own. 

 

It had been taken almost four years ago. A hasty selfie of herself, Adrien, and his mother. A tight knot balled up in the back of her throat, and she flicked the image away to something trivial. 

 

She should be getting out of the bath now, anyway. More than an hour had passed since she slipped into the tub to relax and the once fluffy bubbles had turned into a limp froth instead. And the water was starting to turn cold. Really, not that enjoyable anymore. A quick rinse and she would be back on track to get ready for the event of the night.    
  
Toeing the stopper of the drain, she waited for the water to recede a bit more, marking a note in her phone to show the picture to Adrien, at a later time, in case he didn’t have that one.  _ She _ honestly hadn’t even realized she had that one. After her own mothers death, his mom had taken it upon herself to step in, often the one to accompany them when they went out when she could. The trio would go shopping, or to the movies. They’d take trips to the zoo and to the many monuments around Paris. They’d go out to eat at the finest dining establishments and, in mock secret, all the restaurants their position in society would _ look down on them _ for giving their patronage.

 

She had her first and only meal from McDonalds under the keenly watchful eye of Maman Agreste.

 

Madame Agreste.

 

It had been a fun day.

 

Careful to keep her professionally permed locks away from the water, she showered the remaining suds from her body quickly and wrapped herself up in only the fluffiest of bathrobes, striding with a practiced confidence from bathroom to bedroom where her gown for the evening hang waiting. A gorgeous Gabriel original, designed specifically to compliment the new line and the final garment choice Adrien would be wearing for the show.    
  
Most of the dress was set in a honey gold and accented with pale, warm creams and whites with the tiniest hint of rich sage at the bottom hemline. The necklace and earrings that would go with it had been chosen days ago, and it was only a matter of putting the ensemble together and tending to her makeup and she would be ready to go.

 

Still an hours worth of work, but it would be well worth it in the end.    
  
The debate had raged within her whether she would paint her own face or have someone else do it for her, but her  _ visions _ never seemed to come together when someone else tried to interpret her instructions. If you want a job done right you might as well do it yourself. And tonight she required perfection.

 

Obviously she was the perfect person to achieve it.

 

 

_ She couldn’t do it. No matter what she did, it never came out right on her own.  _ __   
__   
_ At thirteen, Chloe felt she should be able to accomplish whatever look she wanted with a bit of contouring and the right eye shadow, but as easy as all the makeup artists made it look, she was constantly at a loss. How many times had she sat backstage, watching Adrien and Maman A have their makeup done? Dozens of times at least. And it all seemed so easy! _ __   
_   
_ __ Lowlights underneath, highlights on top, blend, blend, blend, and every time it just came out looking like a muddled mess on her own.

 

_ Or like she’d lost a fist fight with a paint brush. _

 

_ A very bronze paint brush. _

 

_ She tossed the makeup kit back onto her vanity, smearing some makeup remover onto her face and began to rub away the streaky, smudgy mess. _

 

_ The door to her room slammed open and she dropped the glob of cream covered tissue into her lap. _ __   
__   
_ “Hey! Do you know how hard it’s going to be to ge-” She had barely been able to turn to meet the intruder, a beige smear sliding down the leg of her very white pants, when she was abruptly cut off by a sobbing ball of blonde wrapping itself around her. “A-adrien? Adrien! What’s wrong?” _ __   
__   
_ He cried. She wrapped her arms around him, and he cried. _ __   
_   
_ __ She had never seen him cry before. Not when his father would snap at him over a mistake and his mom would snap at Gabriel in return. Not after a long day of photography when he was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open and his mom would tease, offering to carry her little bugaboo home. Not when he’d been started on a diet regime in order to keep him from gaining unwanted pounds as he stepped into the teen line of modeling and his mom insisted it wouldn’t be as bad as he thought. Not when-

 

_ “She’s gone.” He choked. _

 

 

Her hand jerked away from her face, saving the delicate wing of eyeliner from the harsh fate of so many before it.

 

She took a deep, calming breath.

 

Why were all of her friends such a pain in the ass. She loved them, but still. If any of them had even the slightest clue how long it took to get such perfect wings they wouldn’t make her feel all these… these… emotions all the time. Waterproof eyeliner wasn’t waterproof until it dried, damn it. 

 

And she didn’t have time to do it over again.

 

Capping the container she picked up the small clutch purse sitting on the vanity and made her way downstairs. If she got there early, she could probably sneak back stage and give her Adrikins a pep talk before the show. She knew how much he  _ loved _ runway events. Maybe bitching about his dad could lift his spirits enough to make it to the banquet after party. She  _ did _ have a bit of information that would, unfortunately, brighten his night. 

 

Not the brightening, but the information itself.

 

She scowled at her hazy reflection as the elevator carried her back down to the lobby. Her gorgeous reflection. Maybe if she did get there early enough she could talk the stage director into letting her walk on with Adrien at the end of the show. Not that it had ever worked in the past, but if you don’t ask then the answer will always be no, and the slightest possibility of a yes was more than enough incentive for her.

 

She was fabulous and the world needed to see it. She  _ was _ wearing Gabriel after all. And if they refused, her father would be sure to hear about it. Again. He tended to hear about everything, good or bad. It wasn’t her fault if people took some other meaning from it more often than not.

 

“I’m off. Tell Daddy not to wait up for me.” She waved a hand as she passed through the lobby, Pierre rushing to open the door to the hotel for her, and forward again to beat her to the limousine that was waiting to whisk her off to the show like a princess to a ball.   
  
Or a movie star.   
  
Or maybe a super secret femme fatale, off on a mission of seduction and espionage. Her target, Adrien Agreste, supposed heir to a fashion fortune and preened top model to his father’s brand that was actually a recently awoken sleeper agent. It was her job to keep the Parisian citizens safe from this hidden threat, and the only way to do it would be to infiltrate the fashion show and deactivate his training with a few key phrases. But getting close to him would be tricky. Only she, Queen Bee, would be able to negotiate her way backstage before the designated time and utter the life saving words into his ear, preventing his rampaging bloodlust murder spree throughout the city.  

 

Alas, one red carpet stoll later, and the first string of designs had already been donned by the model lineup. No one was allowed backstage anymore.

 

The nefarious plot had succeeded and they were all going to die now. Thanks nameless limo driver. Just had to obey the traffic laws and couldn’t get to the show a little early, right? It was all his fault. Or hers. She hadn’t much paid attention to who her driver was exactly.

 

One less opportunity to hang out.   
  
But that was nothing new.

 

With the mysterious disappearance of Madame Agreste, Adrien had turned into yet another ghost in her life too. Right alongside her mother's death. Right alongside her father's plunge into politics. At least where her own mother’s passing happened when she was young. The permanence of it, at first, had been completely lost on her, and she had gotten used to it. Having Madame Agreste around had been a huge help. And Adrien too. Her father, on the other hand, was a slower process. Chloe Bourgeois witnesses the slow slip of that man out of the spotlight of her life with a front row seat. Sure he still loved her and doted on her left and right, but she fought tooth and nail to keep his attention. It was an active effort to keep him abreast of any and all developments in her life, and keep an eye on everything he did, watching out for little cracks in his schedule she could sneak her way into by brute force when necessary. People don’t notice you unless you make them notice you, after all.

 

In his defence, Adrien’s anyway, it wasn’t his fault.

 

As much as she wanted to blame his father for the two-fold void that descended on her shoulders, and as easy as it would have been, it wasn’t hard to see where he was coming from.

 

That boy just screamed  _ protect me _ with every stupid smile and fairy-glitter laugh.

 

Sometimes she could just punch him. 

 

Affectionately. 

 

On the cheek. 

 

With her face.

 

_ Sabrina was working on geography.  _

 

_ Chloe was working on physics.  _

 

_ Neither of them were happy about it. _

 

_ Both for the same reason. Well, mostly. It was nearing the end of the school year, and several of the classes had piled on end of the year projects. Of course, these projects all had similar deadlines as well. As dedicated as Sabrina was to staying on top of the school work, a late spring sickness had pushed her efforts back several days, and if the two wanted to get all of their school work done, both of them would need to pitch in.  _ __   
__   
_ Both of the assignments should have been long finished by now, but they weren’t. Summer break was only a few weeks away, and the year was so close to done, but they were still stuck working on these stupid projects.  _ __   
__   
_ “Ugh,” Chloe slammed the textbook shut and shoved it away from her. “All this stress from this stupid work is going  to absolutely  _ ruin _ my complexion. Daddy’s not spend all this money on the finest skin care products just for these dumb assignments to ruin my perfection.” She leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest with a huff. _ __   
__   
_ “Sounds like you two could use an extra hand.” A distinctly male voice said from the doorway into the suite. Sabrina jumped at the sound, both girls leaning to peek just around the shallow diving wall as Adrien poked his head into the room. _ __   
_   
_ _ “Adrikins!” Both girls faces split into huge smiles as Chloe pushed herself up from her books and rushed to greet the boy with a barely contained squeal. “Oh my  _ god __ , it’s been like forever!” She threw her arms around his neck, nearly tackling him in the process. But he caught her, returning the hug as she plastered kiss after enthusiastic kiss to the side of his face. The few months of radio silence after Madame Agreste’s disappearance had seemed to stretch on endlessly with only the occasional text breaking the static.  So much had happened, but with the impossible increase in security surrounding her childhood friend, she had been forced to watch the ensuing investigation grind to a standstill through an intensely policed news-feed just like the rest of Paris. 

 

_ The question ‘how have you been?’ sat on the tip of her tongue like a loaded gun in a rigged game of russian roulette. To tastelessly blurt it out would end the happy reunion in a heartbeat. The way he hugged her just a bit tighter, how he didn’t quite reciprocate the wild-fire greeting, didn’t let loose the peals of giggled laughter that she had always pegged as something just so… so Adrien… It was enough to tell that no, he had not been doing well, despite his recent rise to modeling fame. Sure he’d done shoots in the past, but now that his mother was gone, he’d stepped in as the face of the company. Instead of  _ her _ face towering on billboards and newsstands across the city, it was the carefully calculated smiling face of this now untouchable shadow of sunshine. She picked up every issue she could. _

 

_ “Figures.” She scoffed behind a smile, hooking her arm around his and tugging him deeper into the room. “Only  _ you _ would get excited over homework.” Actually, he would probably  _ love _ school. “Pick your poison, pretty boy. Geography, or Physics?” _

 

The bass thudded at a steady tempo as music shifted from one song to the next in with each different group of clothing as model after model strode down the catwalk. Everything was, of course, gorgeous. She wouldn’t expect anything less from the powerhouse that was  _ Gabriel _ . There were probably a dozen or so sets, ranging from casual and swimsuit to business wear and formal and even including a section for some ‘high fashion’ concepts. Ridiculous designs that would never serve an actual purpose outside of a fashion show, but it let the designers stretch their talents and have some fun. Sometimes it worked a little preview for things to come, tamer concepts based on the wild and over the top outfits, morphed down into something that could be used for more practical events while still holding that unique flare that set Monsieur Agreste’s fashion house apart from the rest.

 

The whole of the show itself was set to run roughly an hour. Pretty long for a single show, but adding in both the swimwear and the high fashion added a good fifteen to twenty minutes. Especially considering she recognized most of the models. M. Agreste hadn’t contracted many new faces this go around. Brand loyalty or something.

 

With the switch into the last set of the event, Chloe readied her phone. There would be a few more passes down the runway, and the last to come out would be Adrien and his father who would present a brief closing statement to give the models enough time to wrap up backstage, and then dismiss everyone to the banquet afterwards in the next hall over.

 

Well, banquet buffet. The next few hours would be a finely orchestrated circus of models flaunting the semi-formal wear around the guests, press, and investors, while the attending design and PR staff struck up ‘interesting’ conversation and sprinkled colorful descriptions of the night’s show-pieces to the proper media vultures.

 

Counting down models, she pressed record on her phone as Adrien stepped out from the wings of the stage, striding confidently under the spotlights and sea of bright flashes. A black button down shirt pushed up to his elbows acted as the base of the outfit, covered by a double layered vest. The outer layer was a deep charcoal grey with the tiniest hint of warmer tones that framed the under-vest made of a much lighter, richer tan. The same tan added accents over pocket covers in the outer vest. Underneath a sage green tie stood out vivid against the natural tones, tying in nicely with slacks in a much darker shade. To be sure, it was oddly dark overall for a summer look, but if anyone could have pulled the look together, it was Adrien.

 

Gabriel wore something in blue. 

 

Maybe. 

 

She hadn’t paid much attention to what  _ he _ was wearing. Especially now that the mass of the crowd was leaving, and the pair on stage was making their way back behind the curtains. The groups around her cleared out quickly, and she made her way to the side of the dressing area, flipping through pictures on her phone from earlier in the evening and making a side collection of things she would absolutely  _ have _ to pick up once they were released.    
  
“Ah, Miss Bourgeois.” Chloe’s head snapped up at the cool voice that drifted from the backstage exit. She shoved her phone in her purse. Gabriel Agreste stood in the entryway, holding the curtain divider to the side as his son came up behind him. “Lovely dress.”    
  
There was a slight curl to his lips, the shadow of a smile. A sign that the show must have gone smoothly behind the scenes as well? Probably. “Oh, why thank you. If you  _ must _ know, it’s an original from my absolute  _ favorite _ designer. Maybe you’ve heard of him, Sir?” She gave her hair a slight toss, standing up a bit straighter and eyeing the older gentleman with keen scrutiny. The slightest twitch of his mouth, the barest arching of one eyebrow. He closed his eyes and huffed out something that could have been a grunt of disdain or a puff of a lone chuckle. It was always hard to tell.    
  
“I see. Well, it seems you have impeccable taste.” He nodded, cast his son a glance, and continued. “While I do appreciate your eagerness to volunteer as Adrien’s companion for the evening, please keep in mind he is still expected to mingle with the other guests. Nathalie will be keeping an eye on the two of you. I trust you understand the importance of events such as these, Miss  _ Bourgeois _ , so I expect  _ you _ will be generous in sharing his attentions.” Her chin tilted down somewhat, the playful boasting air having dissipated rather quickly with the preemptive reprimand. Of course she understood. It wasn’t like she hadn’t grown up in the political lime light or anything.   
  
“Of course, M. Agreste.” There were not many people that could  _ command _ Chloe Bourgeois. “We’ll be perfect social butterflies. Don’t you worry.”   
  
“See to it that you are.” He nodded once more, issuing a stiff pat to Adrien’s shoulder. “Enjoy the evening.”    
  
And with that, he walked away.

 

Blue really wasn’t his color.

 

“En _ joy _ the  _ even _ ing.” She mouthed under her breath, mimicking a whiney three year old as she planted her hands on her hips and stared after him.

 

The harsh snort beside her was reward enough for the mocking display as she caught Adrien slapping both hands over his mouth in an effort to somehow keep his composure.    
  
“Oh just laugh. If you keep pawing at your face like that you’re going to ruin your make-up and then I’m going to have to drag you into the little girls room and fix it because I know you boys probably have abysmal lighting, and I can just imagine the hissy fit your dad would have later.” She reached up, pulling his hands away from his face as his crumbling resolve seemed to deteriorate even faster at  _ something _ she’d said and readjusted a few fly-away strands of hair in the process. He’d always had a hair trigger sense of humor, especially when he was tired, but it was good to hear a real burst of come from the young man. Chloe rolled her eyes, hooking her arm into his and tugging him off to follow in his father's footsteps in the most literal sense of the term. The last thing she wanted was for him to end up as a humorless shill with a tunnel-vision perspective on life that consisted of work, work, and more work.

 

He let loose a groan through the last few chuckles. “I can already see it.” He straightened up, all joy sapping itself away from his face and replaced with a look of utter disdain. “How unbecoming. I’m sure the thought never even crossed your mind of the field day the media would have if photos of my heir exiting the women's restroom in the company of the mayor's daughter of all people were to surface. It would be an embarrassment to both our names.But mostly mine. Everyone knows that girl is a  _ bad influence _ . Everyone is a bad influence. Why if I didn’t keep my employees under such tight restrictions I’m sure they, too, would corrupt your pristine image beyond repair. In fact we should arrange for a breathing coach for you. It’s still possible to see some life in you when you idle.”   
  
“Of course, sir.” A third voice joined the conversation as Nathalie brushed past them, idly tapping out a few things on her tablet and shooting Adrien a smug, yet guarded, look as he paled briefly. “I’ll have a list of professional instructors on your desk first thing right after i schedule you in a _ long  _ overdue vacation.” To most, the slight upturn of her lips as she disappeared into the banquet hall would have gone unnoticed. 

 

The wide-eyed-doe look plastered across Adrien’s face, the way his entire frame had gone rigid with surprise, and the distinct lack of breath actually leaving his person tugged the bemused smirk from Chloe’s lips. He was on edge tonight. Nathalie’s quips could usually send the young man into silent giggles, well contained but the practiced expression was something she knew all too well. Maybe Nathalie really  _ was _ going to be keeping an eye on them for his father. It was always hard to tell whose side she was playing for at any given time.

 

“Alright, Adrichou, let's go show those old vultures what true perfection looks like.” She tugged him forward, pausing only briefly to pull out her phone and snap a selfie of the two of them backstage before diving into the fray.

 

 

 

 

 

 

To be fair, there was a disproportionate number of gorgeous people at the event that night, so the claim of perfection Chloe had boasted backstage seemed a bit harder to pull off than first expected. About twenty minutes in, however, she was far less concerned with that and far more concerned with keeping her brain from melting out of hear ears from sheer boredom. Playing the role of arm candy for once instead of the other way around, she found she had very little to actually say to the various investors that came to dote and schmooze with the standing heir to the Gabriel fashion empire, offering the usual push and pull of back scratching favors and plays for preferential treatment in the upcoming seasons.

 

The idea that Adrien had any say over the direction of the company was laughable to her. Sure he might eventually inherit it all, but not until someone else pried the last shreds of stock from his father's cold, dead fingers in a few decades at least. A few gracious thank-yous here, a couple empty compliments there, a smile or two for the older, more lecherous businessmen who took note of the low sweeping neckline of her dress and they were wandering once more. 

 

“I'm really sorry about that, Chlo. I don't know why my dad keeps them around…” He steered them towards where a few of the other models from the night were congregating. One motioned towards the ridiculously high heeled shoes of another and was met with an unrestrained grimace, gaining a laugh from the rest of the group. Beauty has it's price.

 

“For their money, obviously. And can you really blame them? I  _ am _ gorgeous after all. Besides, they make for wonderful villains for Ladybug to beat the snot out of in my mind when she comes to my rescue, don't you think?” She cast him a smirk, a rather dreamy smirk, but still a smirk. 

 

“What about Chat Noir? I'm sure he'd love to get in on the butt kicking action too.” He leaned in, his voice a conspirational whisper, but his expression was off. She could never figure out why, though. “I hear he's quite the Knight when it comes to rescuing fair damsels and purrincesses.” 

 

“Ugh, please, don't pun. You're cute but you're not that cute.” She shoved him away playfully but their arms stayed linked. “That cat couldn't punch his way out of a paper bag. Besides, if Ladybug wanted all the fun of beating up dirty old men he'd happily sit on the sidelines for her. Hell, with that… that bdsm outfit he'd probably ask her to knock him around a little too.” She waved a hand.

 

His scandalized face split with a grin. “Ha, maybe. Then again who wouldn't want to get punched by ladybug?”

 

“Oh God, not you too? I’d ask why blondes are always the kinky ones, but I know me, so I'm just going to bite my tongue on that one.” They waved greeting to the group and made some small talk.

 

A few more than curious glances were tossed her way from the boy beside her as he caught up casually with the other models. Notes were taken on a few of the outfits, a specific request for slightly lower heels next go around, and possibly a little less green going into the fall line, but to her the last bit sounded like it was some kind of running joke among them.

 

She laughed along with the small group, taking social cues from the people she didn't know and keeping some of her more opinionated comments to herself for once. Like how whoever was in charge of pairing the olive-toned man with darker hair with  _ that _ particular shade of blue needed to be stripped of their position and sent back to color theory 101. At least she had the satisfaction of knowing Gabriel himself had hand picked the colors of her own outfit to compliment her personal palette, and while she was also sure he’d played a major role in the final color-calls for all of the outfits on display tonight, some skin tones just did  _ not _ work with some colors and it took away from the final product.  

 

It was truly unfortunate how many of the other attendants lacked even the tiniest iota of personal style knowledge, considering they were flitting about in the world of high fashion. It would have been laughable if it wasn’t so sad.

 

_ “We need to talk.” _

 

_ The rhythmic cl-clack of heels on tile came to an abrupt halt as she stopped in the vacant hallway of the school and away from the classroom that was now certainly in an uproar. The more muted  _ tamp _ of sneakers slowed but continued to close in from behind. _

 

_ One corner of her lip crinked up in an expectant sneer as Adrien stepped into her personal bubble of space, arms crossing over her chest as she turned away, avoiding the solid frown she knew would be trained her way. “Do we, Adri _ kins _?” _

 

_ “Yes. We do.” She could count on one hand the number of times he’d actually managed to sound like his father, and the way each word pushed it’s way into the frigid air between them marked another tally on that list. The finality of it was imposing. She didn’t want to talk. And if Chloe Bourgeois didn’t want to do something, then she didn’t. It was that simple. It had always been that simple. And it would always be that simple. She was practically Parisian royalty and  royalty bowed to no one. Even if he were technically nobility, he was still below her.  _

 

_ No. _

 

_ That wasn’t true. _

 

_ Perfectly manicured nails dug into the cloth of her jacket. He was precious to her. She was furious, but he was still her Adrien.  _

 

_ “I don’t see what there is to talk about.” Petulant. Dismissive. Childish. She wasn’t blind. And she wasn’t stupid. Well, she wasn’t normally stupid. A moment ago she would have classified herself as an idiot of immeasurable proportions that had allowed jealousy to get the upper hand when dealing with the Dupain-Cheng girl. _

 

_ “You and Marinette.” He started, but shook his head, voice softening. “You and  _ everyone _.  I don’t know what’s behind all of it, but I can’t just sit by and watch you self-destruct like this. I don’t want to lose my oldest friend, Chlo. _

 

_ “I... beg your pardon?” _

 

Chloe physically bit back an exasperated sigh, worrying the inside of her lip as boredom threatened to consume her.  Oh how she wanted to say something,  _ anything _ about the tragedy of the situation.  _ But _ she had promised to be on her best behavior, an unbudgeable condition of her attendance, and damn it she was going to uphold that commitment. She was getting better at it, at least. 

 

But she needed a distraction. Something.  _ Any _ thing.

 

Blue eyes scanned across the gathering with a slowly simmering sense of desperation. The polite chatter in their small group had all but blended into the rest of the background noise aside from picking up the occasional ‘Gabriel’ this from the models or ‘father’ that from Adrien. 

 

_ Or _ a soft rumbling noise that originated from somewhere distinctly lower than mouth level. 

 

“Uh oh, someone forgot to put that monster on mute!” A round of laughter at Adrien’s expense bubbled up from the group, and the blonde girl thanked the stars her prayer had been answered.

 

“Oh,  _ darling, _ let me go run and get you something.” She purred, hugging closer against his arm and tugging him down in the process to plant a quick kiss on his now-rosy cheek. Ha, take that little bit of tabloid fodder you creepy old codgers. “I’ll be right back.” She said with a sing-song tone as teasing and jibs were slung his way. And a well placed compliment or two about his lovely  _ date _ and how he should  _ marry _ anyone willing to feed him under  _ daddy’s _ nose.

 

The fastest way to a man’s heart, and all that.

 

The sea of people parted before her as she made her way towards the small but perpetually filled buffet that had been set up on the far side of the hall, bypassing several attendants carrying trays lined with tantalizing treats provided by several of Paris’s finest eateries. As delicious as they might be, she had a particular pastry in mind that would definitely win more than a few brownie points in her favor. Never mind who actually  _ made _ them.

 

She was loath to admit to the skill of Tom and Sabine’s bakery, but she couldn’t deny that Tom and Sabine had a way with bread that was rarely rivaled. Her father insisted on frequenting there himself, which meant she was free to  _ protest  _ every step of the way and still acquire the delectable treats without losing face in front of  _ her _ .

 

Blue eyes narrowed as she wove her way through the crowd, expertly avoiding eye contact with the chattier arm candy, casting casual smiles at a few more recognized faces, and giving the  _ gentlemen _ from earlier a wide berth in the process. Sure she could have cut straight across the glamorous ballroom of beautiful bodies, but that might give them the satisfaction of ogling her perfection and she was quite done with that. Chloe could only hold her tongue so much during an event, and she knew she would need as much of her resolve as she could muster as she closed in on the first of the serving tables and the dark-haired girl standing behind it and plating  a couple of morsels for someone far above her station.  _ As it should be. _

 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Marinette Dupain- _ Cheng _ .” The name dripped thick of her tongue like molasses, accenting each syllable and garnering a sweet sense of satisfaction as the girl’s shoulders stiffened and the casual ease of her smile was wiped clean from her face. Her own lips curled up a triumphant smirk at the girl’s reaction as she sauntered up to the table, leaning one hand on the edge and perusing the various items on display.    
  
“Why, Mademoiselle Bourgeois, what a pleasant surprise.” False sweetness coated Marinette’s words with a far wider smile. The fact she was already on the defensive filled the blonde with delight. “What can I get for you tonight?” Rehearsed words and fake smiles. Good. At least she knew the position she was in.

 

“My  _ date _ is a bit peckish.” Oh, if only she wasn’t honor bound to stay on her best behavior. It wasn’t every day the opportunity to knock the pig-tailed brat down a few pegs presented itself, anymore. Here she was a nobody. No friends to lean on, no one clamoring to rush to her defense, no grand accomplishments to flaunt about proving to the world how creative and cunning and  _ liked _ she was. “And for some reason he  _ adores _ these...” She waved her free hand at the tri-tiered display of tiny tarts. “Biscuits or whatever your family makes.” How lucky she was.

 

“The salmon and spinach pie?” Marinette’s eyebrow rose curiously. Was she skeptical? Why on earth would she be skeptical. Why was everything like pulling teeth with this girl.

 

“That’s the one. A whole plate of them. And make it snappy, my  _ date _ is waiting. Chop, chop.” She clapped her hands lightly to emphasize the ‘urgency’ of the situation. Meanwhile her eyes scanned up and down the stretch of table designated for the rest of the bakery’s confections. Macarons and fruit tarts, glazed pastries, croissants, other small rolls, biscotti, and a number of things she didn’t even recognize. Probably specialties of the boulangerie.

 

Chloe’s eyes lingered on one particular plate of pastries. Drizzled with honey, the pastry itself spiraled up into a short, fat cone, similar to a cinnamon bun, but there was something sticking out of the top. It looked almost like a… A stem?

 

Marinette cleared her throat softly, pulling the blonde’s attention away from her examination and back to the girl acting as waitress for the evening. In her hands was a small plate loaded with bite-sized pies. 

 

“Here you are,  _ miss _ .” She said, a tight smile plastered to her face. She certainly was good at schooling her expression. Chloe wondered just how far she’d have to push to get that temper she knew was bubbling just below the surface to flair.  Eyeing the plate she plucked one of the treats up, popping it into her mouth and, not at all admitting they were actually pretty good, made a face after swallowing.

 

“These are cold.” That wouldn’t do.

 

The other girls face faltered.    
  
“Uh, yeah, they’ve cooled down since the reception started...” She trailed off, letting whatever the end of her comment might have been die. Oh, Marinette was definitely riding a fine line between being direct and being a smart ass with that borderline cheerful tone. It was a shame they weren’t somewhere else.     
  
“Well that simply won’t do. I’m afraid you’ll just have to go back to the kitchens and get something fresh.”

 

“But these are-” She’d started to snap. Marinette’s face scrunched up for just a moment, taking a quick, deep breath as she set the plate down and re-schooled her expression into that of a delighted hostess. “Of  _ course, Mademoiselle _ Bourgeois. Only the  _ best  _ for  _ you _ and  _ your date _ , right?” 

 

Chloe nodded. “And don’t you forget it.” With a wave of her hand she turned her back to the dark haired girl to watch the crowd. “Hurry back now. I’d hate to keep  _ him  _ waiting.”

 

“Of  _ course. _ ” Came the cheerfully strained reply, followed by  _ something _ muttered just enough under her breath Chloe wasn’t entirely sure  _ what _ was said, but the sentiment surely rang loud and clear.

 

She’d won the round but the war was still far from over.

 

Well that was fun.

 

The sea of bodies in front of her shifted like the tides. A few people stopped by the table, one of the other attendants helping them while the bakery’s representative was off on her errand, and the world moved on around her like always.

 

And she waited.

 

Minutes passed by at a snail's pace.

 

Creeping slowly.

 

She  _ could _ pull her phone out to check the time, but she didn’t know  _ when _ exactly Marinette had disappeared.

 

It was more than likely the girl was taking her time on purpose at that point. She’d left the ball in her court by letting her walk away and take control of just how long it’d take her to get back. 

 

_ Maybe the pies were still cooking? _

 

Was Marinette the type to take spite quite to that level? She’d asked for something hot, so would she take the time to make them completely from scratch and force her to wait for that extra jab at perfection? 

 

Maybe she should have name dropped who her date actually was?

 

The other girl probably would have stepped it up double time just to cater to Adrien’s needs. 

 

But then she’d have also admitted to him being a fan of her parents food.

 

Even if it was true.

 

Of course there was always the chance that  _ since _ Adrien was involved she’d have face planted into the table and then there wouldn’t even  _ be _ any pies with how much of a spazz Marinette could be around him. They couldn’t have that now, could they.

 

“ _ There _ you are.”  _ Speak of the devil… _ Adrien’s voice broke through the crowd before he appeared around a small group conversing near the food tables. “I was starting to think you’d gotten kidnapped by an  _ akuma _ or something.” He grinned, his eyes immediately darting to the table behind her for a moment before returning to her.

 

“Ha, ha. Just because I’m the most adored girl in Paris doesn’t mean I’m  _ always _ a target.” She batted her eyes at him and reattaching to his arm. “But I’m touched you were so eager to come rescue me, Adrichou.”

 

He scratched the back of his neck with his free arm, looking up and away. “Well, you  _ did _ say you were bringing me food.” 

 

She smacked him on the chest, playfully. “And it’s on it’s way. Fresh and hot from the kitchens.”

 

“Chloe...” 

 

She bit the inside of her lip at the admonishment in his tone. She might have gone a bit too far. To him, anyway. “Well… It’s already on it’s way, so just enjoy it.” So much for her best behavior. “They’ll be better hot anyway. Really, you should be thanking me for being so considerate. After the day I’m sure you’ve had, you deserve the best since we have no idea how much you’re actually going to get to eat before we get caught.” 

 

She huffed, watching the doorway Marinette had disappeared into earlier. What was  _ taking _ her so long?

 

Someone approached and Adrien greeted them in the usual polite manner. There was a bit more small talk, compliments on the fall line, the request for a good word to be put in with his father, and the same practiced responses she’d already heard a dozen or so times that night. The two of them shifted apart and Chloe continued to look up and down the tables of food just as something to do. 

 

Eventually she came back to the honey’d pastry once more. That was definitely a step poking out of the top of it. So… some kind of fruit? It was too tall to be an apple, and too small at that. She’d have to get one at some point during the night. Or maybe she’d send Sabrina to pick up something in a few days if she could make herself wait that long. 

 

Movement near the door pulled her away again and she found a similar sight greeted her as the first time with Marinette holding a plate of miniature pies. Hopefully hot this time.

 

“It’s about time.” She called, just loud enough she knew the other girl would hear, and hopefully loud enough to disrupt whichever boot-licker had decided to arrest Adrien’s attention for the past odd minutes while she was considering the contents of that peculiar pastry. 

 

“Here you go, one order of-”

 

Chloe watched the girl freeze at about the same time she  _ felt _ Adrien turn what was most likely a disapproving look at herself, but it was so incredibly worth it. He followed through with his turn and she cast him a smirk, watching the stern look shuffle through expressions almost comically from confusion to surprise to outright sun-beam elation as the whole picture came together.   
  
“Marinette! What are you doing here?” He stepped towards her, the action enough to defrost her petrified state and send her shifting from foot to foot.

 

“Getting your  _ food _ , obviously.” Chloe’s smirk only grew with the other girls nerves. Yep.  _ Definitely worth it. _ She thought as his bright smile only grew.   
  
“Are those-”

 

“Palmon and Sinach Spies. I m-mean Spimon and Pinach Sies,  _ no, S-sal- _ ”

 

“Yes, Salmon and Spinach Pies.” Chloe plucked the plate from Marinette’s hands, and popped one of the definitely hot but-not-too-hot pastries into Adrien’s mouth. “Surprise. Now let's go. You’ve got more mingling to do.” 

 

Hooking her arm with Adrien’s once more she tugged him back towards the rest of the crowd, taking advantage of his inability to protest around the mouthful of food. “Oh, and Marinette, we’ll be back around for seconds. Do be sure to have another plate of something ready. Adrichou  _ is _ a growing boy after all.” 

 

The rest of the even passed in a blur. The same conversations seemed to repeat every five minutes or so as the two of them made the rounds about the room. Nathalie checked in with them twice, and Adrien gave a very discreet report on certain investors and partners that had shown promising interest and the ones that seemed far less inclined to pursue future business, even though to Chloe each interaction seemed more or less a carbon copy of the last unless they were talking to one of the photographers or the other models. There were certainly other celebrity-esque guests at the event, and they would occasionally get the chance to rub elbows with the rest of the Parisian elite, but the night was still more business than play, so often those moments would be cut short in favor of people of higher interest to the Gabriel brand.

 

The hours stretched towards the end of the night, and many of the attendees had already filtered out, leaving mostly those intent on speaking to Gabriel specifically milling about and passing time until their turns finally arrived. One last check-in with Nathalie and Adrien was given the green light to dismiss himself. 

 

Normally that would have been the cue for a mad scramble towards the nearest exit, but tonight found them heading back towards the catering tables one last time with Adrien leading the way.

 

“Marinette.” He placed his hands on the table, leaning forward and dropping his voice to a near whisper. “ _ Chloe _ was wondering if you have any  _ to-go _ boxes.”

 

“Oh no, don’t bring me into your little food-based forbiden love triangle.” Chloe crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve put up with being your drug mule all night and as far as I’m concerned I’m officially off duty, effective immediately. Marinette, you’re his dealer, give the boy what he wants.”

 

The girl across the table sputtered. The night had been something of a roller-coaster, each pass of the duo resulting in a very different interaction. “Wh- dealer?” 

 

“Obviously he’s a free man now. Load him up and send him off, or whatever.” She pointed to one of the larger display plates. “If you don’t have boxes, just throw whatever you can on that and I’ll smuggle him out of here. Show’s over. He can feed again. The fast has broken, and all that.” 

 

“Fast?” Confusion tinged the slightly bewildered expression Marinette wore as she started to move a varied selection of baked goods onto one of the larger serving trays. “What do you mean? Wait.” She looked from Chloe to Adrien and her brow furrowed. “You haven’t been eating?” She whispered, tong-ing more of the little pies onto the tray as well.

 

“I have...” He started, glancing around slowly and making sure there was a good enough distance between them and the rest of the party guests. “But I’ve been on a stricter diet the last few weeks with the show upcoming. But now that it’s over-”   
  
“Now that it’s over he can afford to continue his love affair with more than just kale and lean meats.” 

 

“Come on, Chlo, it’s not that bad.”

 

“Please. I watched you eat two bites of a crepe and then almost cry like you were giving up your only child to an orphanage when you asked me to finish it for you last week.”

 

“That’s only because you  _ knew _ I wasn’t allowed to have it right now in the first place but you still insisted.”

 

“But it was good, right?”

 

“It was delicious.”

 

“Case in point. We’re getting crepes tomorrow, no arguments.”

 

“I can make crepes.” 

 

Two sets of eyes turned towards Marinette. 

 

“Come again?” Chloe narrowed her eyes at the girl that over the course of the night had become a temporary co-conspirator in Project Feed Adrichou.

 

“I can make crepes. I mean, we have all the ingredients at the bakery, and i-if you two wanted to come over...” Chloe couldn’t place the expression on the other girls face. One moment she looked almost overjoyed at the thought and the next she looked like she was going to be sick as her eyes shifted back and forth with the offer. 

 

The blonde girl sighed. This whole thing was turning into a mess. Granted it was a mess that benefitted  _ her _ Adrien, but still it was a mess.

 

“Well, I  _ was _ going to have my  _ personal _ chef make them for us...” She leveled a look at Adrien. She already knew what was going to happen as he met her with the puppy eyes full force. Crepes from the Dupain-Cheng household? Was there even a question at that point where he’d want to go?

 

No not really.    
  


Chloe sighed once more and rolled her eyes.

  
“But I guess we could drop by there first.”

 

Marinette had the two of them follow her back to the kitchens while she wrapped up the tray in plastic for the ride home. Chloe had to give her points for that one. Leaving out the back would be far easier than trying to smuggle the now mountainous pile of pastries out through the front would have been a herculean task to successfully perform with less bodies to camouflage their escape. Adrien had phoned the Gorilla to meet them at the service entrance instead of the lobby and the three were set to wait the couple of minutes it would take him to drive around. 

 

Chloe pulled out her phone, slowly swiping back through the pictures she’d gotten of the outfits of the night, well aware of Marinette peering over her shoulder in the process. 

 

Marinette, in turn, pointed out the pastries the blonde girl had been apparently not-so-discreetly eyeing all night.

 

They were Honeyed Pears.

**Author's Note:**

> ooooh my god this came down to the wire something awful.
> 
>  
> 
> For anyone interested in the pear pastries, they're totally real and look delicious as heck and I want to make them, but I'm lazy, but here's the recipe!
> 
>  
> 
> http://www.tasteofhome.com/recipes/honeyed-pears-in-puff-pastry  
>    
> Honeyed Pears in Puff Pastry  
> Ingredients  
> 4 small pears  
> 4 cups water  
> 2 cups sugar  
> 1 cup honey  
> 1 small lemon, halved  
> 3 cinnamon sticks (3 inches)  
> 6 to 8 whole cloves  
> 1 vanilla bean  
> 1 sheet frozen puff pastry, thawed  
> Directions  
> Core pears from bottom, leaving stems intact. Peel pears; cut 1/4 in. from the bottom of each to level if necessary.  
>    
> In a large saucepan, combine the water, sugar, honey, lemon halves, cinnamon and cloves. Split vanilla bean and scrape seeds; add bean and seeds to sugar mixture. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat; place pears on their sides in saucepan and poach, uncovered, for 18-22 minutes or until pears are almost tender, basting occasionally with poaching liquid.  
>    
> Remove pears with a slotted spoon; cool slightly. Strain and reserve 1-1/2 cups poaching liquid; set aside.  
>    
> Unfold puff pastry on a lightly floured surface. Cut into 1/2-in.-wide strips. Starting at the bottom of a pear, wrap a pastry strip around pear, adding additional strips until pear is completely wrapped in pastry. Repeat with remaining pears and puff pastry.  
>    
> Transfer to a parchment paper-lined 15-in. x 10-in. x 1-in. baking pan. Bake at 400° for 20-25 minutes or until golden brown.  
>    
> Meanwhile bring reserved poaching liquid to a boil; cook until liquid is thick and syrupy, about 10-15 minutes. Place pears on dessert plates and drizzle with syrup. Serve warm. Yield: 4 servings.


End file.
